Promises, Swear Them to the Sky
by singyourmelody
Summary: Post finale, Chloe and Alek hit the road to try to set things right. "When she looks over at him, eyes concentrating on the road ahead, she realizes that her life's a mess, but so is his and at least their messes are mixed up together." Two shot.
1. Trying to Find the In Betweens

Promises, Swear Them to the Sky

by: singyourmelody

Author's Note and Disclaimer:I don't own any of The Nine Lives of Chloe King characters. Title is from The Naked and Famous's "Young Blood," one of my favorite songs ever. This is my second post-finale story. It's still a little raw and is making my writing turn kind of dark. Darker than usual at least. This will be a two-shot, I believe.

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><p>Trying to Find the In-Betweens<p>

* * *

><p>They take a lot of walks in the after.<p>

They go after dark, when most of the world (including her mom, and Amy, and Paul) are asleep and unaware. She'll lie on her bed, staring at her ceiling, until two, three, four o'clock in the morning when he drops in at her window. He always comes. She won't say anything and neither will he, but they'll tiptoe down the stairs and they'll use the front door to find the grayish trees and parked cars and sidewalks.

Sometimes their hands brush up against each others' in the murky darkness, sometimes not.

To people driving home from bars or dance clubs or whatever people do at two in the morning, they look like solid people. But they're not, are they? If those people passing by ever really looked at them, they would see they are as paper-thin and wispy and removed as ghosts roaming the streets. _But that's not quite right_, she thinks to herself. Ghosts can't be haunted, while she can still hear Jasmine's laugh and see Valentina's kind eyes and feel Brian's arms around her. For all she knows about apparitions and the afterlife, she thinks that maybe the two of them are not the only restless spirits on this street.

They pause for a moment under the Elm Street light and she recognizes that she's become accustomed to the shadows the pale yellow streetlight makes on his face. She refuses to think of the shadows that line her own. They are both exhausted from fighting and planning and pretending it's all okay, but he nods in the direction of Taylor Avenue and they continue to walk until dawn.

The exhaustion is overwhelming, but it is still feeling, so she'll take it.

For a longest while, she hasn't felt anything at all.

* * *

><p>Summer arrives and she gets a job as a camp counselor. It'll be nice to give back and to just stop <em>thinking<em> for once about everything that's happened. If anything can get her mind off of her own scarred life, it's twelve-to-fourteen-aged girls and all of the drama they will bring.

(She decides she needs to pull it together and that being responsible to someone other than herself is the way to do it.)

Her mom doesn't really understand her decision to be away for the entire summer, but she doesn't push it. She's grateful.

The Tuesday before she is supposed to leave, he appears in her room.

She's sorting the clothes she is planning on taking, when he walks right up to her and says that he's found his brother. He needs this closure, she knows that, so she asks him about it (although a part of her doesn't want to have anything to do with that night).

"I need to leave," he says simply.

"Okay, for how long?" she asks, resuming her folding.

"I'm not sure."

She looks at him then, surprised. "Okay, so. . ."

He cuts her off. "Chloe, I need to leave and you have to come with me."

"What? No."

"I can't leave you unprotected, but I have to do this."

"Alek, no. I have camp in two days, you know that," she responds.

"Chloe," he says, and the sound of his voice, the way it sounds unsure and yet also firm makes her stop what she is doing. He's not confident about this. Since that night, he has been a pale imitation of the boy she once knew so well and she hadn't realized how damaged he really is until this moment.

"Alek, I want to help you with this, but I can't. I already committed to this job and I need time away from all of this Mai stuff," she says, looking directly into his eyes.

"Time away from this Mai stuff?" he asks, disbelievingly. "Chloe, you don't get 'time off' from being a Mai. You are a Mai. You're the most important Mai!" his says, his voice getting louder. "And I. . ." he says, more resolved now, "I am asking for your help. I can't leave you here and I need to set things right with Zane."

"Set things right? What exactly does that mean, Alek?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"We both know what that means." He sounds grave, his voice low.

She knows that they should not kill Zane, that taking one life for another is not the answer, but she also doesn't care about what they should or should not do. The rulebook went right out the window with Jasmine and Valentina and Brian's final breaths.

She continues folding her shirts and jeans as he watches her move around her room.

Finally she finishes and zips her suitcase shut.

"What am I going to tell my mom?" she asks him quietly and he smiles a small smile when he realizes that she's going with him.

"That you're still going to camp and that you needed to leave a few days early?" He's always been good at thinking on his feet.

"And then I'll just call the camp and tell them I have to back out of the job," she finishes. "They're going to hate me."

"I know and I'm sorry about that," he says, and he looks like he means it.

She pulls out her cell phone and makes the call. Thankfully it goes straight to voicemail. She tries hard to not sound like too much of a jerk, but she thinks she will still come off badly.

Thirty minutes later, she says goodbye to her mom, who freaks out of course, even though she assures her she'll be back before they know it. She has to keep reminding herself that she has to do this to her mom, that if they don't leave now, they won't be able to catch up with Zane. She loads her suitcase in the back of Alek's car and sits in the passenger seat with her feet propped up on the dashboard. She doesn't say goodbye to Amy or Paul, but texts them when they are already on the road. She owes them more than a lame text, she knows that, but right now, it's the most she can give.

* * *

><p>Fifteen miles out of town, he's still staring straight ahead. "Thank you for doing this for me," he says finally.<p>

She nods and doesn't say anything. She's completely uncertain about everything: death, justice, her own free will in choosing anything about her life, her dad, her feelings towards Brian. It's all a jumbled, confusing mess and she knows she shouldn't be making big life decisions in her present state. She shouldn't be lying to her mom or backing out on her commitments or taking off on an unknown trip with a boy.

But when she looks over at him, eyes concentrating on the road, always so focused on whatever he is doing, she realizes that maybe she can be sure about him. Her life's a mess, but so is his and at least, at the very least, their messes are mixed up together.

She listens to the soft hum of the tires on the road and decides that if they can take their messy lives and just keep moving, that maybe the laughter and kindness and warm embraces won't be able to find them.

* * *

><p>It's like a road trip, but not.<p>

The sun is shining and the windows are rolled down and she's periodically handing him Twizzlers, while eating some herself and, oh God, is that "Life is a Highway" on the radio? _Come on._

She can't see his eyes because they are hidden beneath his aviators, and his eyes are always his most telling feature, but she's assuming he's thinking about how surreal this all is.

In the before, she would have loved something like this. As long as they had a plan. And a destination. And didn't have to lie to everyone.

But this is the after, and plans are highly overrated.

"Where are we going?" she asks after a couple of hours of silence.

"Seattle."

She nods. "Good music scene."

"And coffee."

"And weather systems?" she offers.

He looks over and gives her a small smile, and for a fleeting second it seems like there is no before and after, no dividing line that somehow managed to split them right down the middle so that there are now two Chloes. Two Aleks. Two halves, neither completely whole. Neither knowing how to be anymore.

They spend the night in a small hotel after they cross the border into Oregon. He refuses to get her her own room, for fear of what may happen if someone is tracking them. She hadn't even asked for it and doesn't protest when they enter their small shared one. She calls the bed near the window and forgets to brush her teeth or even put her pajamas on as she pulls back the covers and quickly falls asleep.

(She dreams of amber streetlights and shadows on sidewalks, but for some reason she isn't afraid.)

* * *

><p>He gets them to Seattle in record time, but they are still too late.<p>

His contact informs them that Zane has already moved from his location, but is most likely still in the Seattle area, in cooperation with a rogue Mai cell there. They check in to the hotel and start searching at his last known whereabouts.

Three weeks later, they are no closer to finding him than they were when they got there. He was right about the coffee, though, she realizes as she orders two cups for them. She hands him his cup (one sugar, two creams) and takes a sip of her own. "Now what?" she asks.

"They're supposed to be meeting tonight."

"And we are just going to break into their meeting and take down all of them?"

"Yes."

She turns to face him. "Alek. That won't work. I know you're running high on emotions and caffeine, but impulse isn't going to be the way we take Zane down."

"And what do you suggest?" he asks. She looks for sarcasm or snarkiness in his words, but she doesn't find it. He truly wants to know what she thinks.

"I think we wait till he's alone and then, what was it you said, 'set this right'?"

He nods and looks back at his cup. "I'm sorry this is taking so long."

She lies back on her bed and shrugs. "I've got nothing but time."

Her plan works. They wait until Zane exits the abandoned warehouse where the Mai group was meeting and they knock him out, load him into the trunk of their rental car and drive out of the city.

It's all surprisingly easy.

When he comes to, he is tied to a tree and looks more than a little surprised to see the two of them.

"Oh, this is rich," he says. "Hello, brother."

Alek scratches his claws across his face and says, "Don't you ever call me that."

She knows this isn't a great start. Zane has said six words and Alek has already begun to lose control. She knows that she must be careful, for both of them.

They spend the next hours pumping Zane for information, asking who he was working for, how he even got mixed up in all of this, and why he targeted them.

He looks at them incredulously, through his now bloodied eyes when they ask _why them_.

"We know she's the uniter. How do you best get to the uniter? Through the people closest to her," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Then why didn't you come for me? Why Jasmine, why Valentina?" Alek asks.

He actually laughs, a hollow, rattling laugh. "Because we wanted you around still. We couldn't completely devastate the uniter. Then she wouldn't put up a fight. It's easier to steal her lives when she's fighting and we knew she needed something to fight for still. And like it or not, brother, she'll fight for you."

Alek's eyes blaze when he says this, so he hits him again and this time Zane loses consciousness.

"Alek. . ." she says, quietly. "Enough."

He turns back to her. "Enough? Enough? He killed Jasmine. He murdered Valentina. There will never be enough things for me to do to him."

"You don't think I know that?" she asks, stepping right up to face him. "You don't think I want to do this too? I do. I hate him. I hate him so much it hurts. And we will never be able to set things right. You know that. The only way for any of this to be right would be for Jasmine and Valentina and Brian to still be alive. But that's not possible. And at the very least, we still need to be operating within the realm of possible, okay? We have to hold on to that."

He's staring at her and she's hoping she's getting through to him, but then he starts breathing hard and shaking almost violently as if he is fighting a war within himself and somehow losing. He bends over trying to catch his breath, so she slowly steps forward and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

"Listen to my heartbeat" she begins, her voice echoing the words he said when he was trying to teach her how to really hear. "Just that, and nothing else. The rest of the world doesn't matter. There's only you and me. Now make it all go away. You are in charge of the world around you. I know that this is going to be one of the hardest things we ever do. And I know we are both numb and hardened and jaded, but you and me? We are both strong. We have to be. For them."

He's clutching onto her so tightly that she can barely hold them up, but she manages to get them to the car before he finally breaks down. In all that's happened in the after, she's never seen him cry, but here they are. And she thought it would be uncomfortable and awkward, but she's crying too and she realizes that she's not as alone as she thought she was.

* * *

><p>They leave Seattle that night. They are both completely emotionally destroyed, but they know that the anti-Mai cell will realize Zane's gone and eventually find him tied to the tree in the field and they need to be as far away as possible when this new information comes to light.<p>

She suggests Yellowstone. It's far away from Seattle and even farther away from San Francisco, and he raises his eyebrows, but doesn't object.

They make it into Idaho before exhaustion overcomes them and they check into a rather seedy hotel that somehow only has one double bed available. She laughs when the guy behind the desk tells them that, the cliché-ness of it all hitting her at full force. Alek tells them they will keep looking, but she says they'll take it.

"Chloe . . ." he says, but she stops him.

"I'm exhausted, you're exhausted. You're the only person I've seen in the last month, it's three o'clock in the morning, I don't care that we have to share a bed," she says. He must be tired, because he doesn't argue and they collapse into the bed and she doesn't dream at all.

(She wakes up once during the night and he's holding onto her so tightly, yet also so gently, as if she is something precious that he is terrified may be taken from him. He shouldn't be so worried, she notes. She's not going anywhere.)

* * *

><p>Camping is fun, she discovers. She's never been an outdoorsy type of girl, but she likes hiking and sitting by the river and building fires. It's something different and she needs that. They both do.<p>

He's been quiet around her since the whole tying-Zane-to-a-tree-incident and the Chloe of before would just keep talking about anything and everything to try to assuage whatever is bothering him. But this is the Chloe of the after, so she asks him what's wrong.

They are climbing up a small mountain and he turns to offer his hand to help her over a large ravine.

"Nothing," he says, not looking at her.

"Aren't we passed the point of lying to each other, Alek?"she asks, as she pulls herself up.

"I'm just still processing everything," he says, finally.

She understands the need for time, so she lets him process and they finish their hike in silence. The Chloe of the after likes the silence, as long as she knows she can talk if she wants to. Having him there grants her that.

At the top of the mountain, they can see how far they've come. It's beautiful, shades of evergreen and hunter and sage lay before them and she instantly loves the thin line where the azure sky meets the far off horizon.

"You know what I think we need?" she says finally.

"What's that?" he asks, inhaling the fresh air.

"I think we need to let it all go. We're standing on the highest point I've ever been on and I feel like I could touch the clouds and I don't want to come back down the same way I came up here," she knows she probably not making much sense, but he seems to understand her.

"So don't," he responds and it sounds so simple.

She lifts her arms in the air and closes her eyes and breathes deeply.

When she opens her eyes, he is staring at her, amused.

She walks over to him, throws her arms around him, and says, "Starting now, we do this better."

"Do what better?" he asks and she can feel his words reverberating from his chest into hers.

"Everything. Breathing. Eating. Feeling. Sleeping. I don't know. All of it. We do it better."

He pulls back and looks at her eyes. "Okay. Better."

They stay there for hours.

* * *

><p>He suggests they keep moving, for safety's sake, and asks her if she wants to go home.<p>

"I can't. I'm supposed to be gone for the entire summer. What would I tell my mom?" she asks as he pumps gas into their car. She's leaning against the side of the car, watching him. She does that a lot, she notices.

"That you took an extended vacation with a boy so that he could protect you and so that you could prevent him from doing something he'd regret?"

She looks at him skeptically.

"That you quit?" he suggests.

"That's even worse."

"How is that worse?" he chuckles to himself.

She shrugs. She's lied to her mom a lot since her transformation, but she doesn't want her to think badly of her daughter.

"So, what should we do then?" he asks.

She's struck with a sudden thought. "You, um, do you want to go home?" she asks. She had never thought that maybe he wanted this trip to be over.

"No," he says. "Don't have much waiting for me there. I'd rather be here with you."

It's not even a compliment. He's telling her that she's better company than the ghosts that follow them down empty streets, but there's something in his words that makes her heart speed up.

But she forces herself to ignore it, walks into the convenience store and emerges with strawberry licorice and a map.

They return to the car and when he suggests Vegas, she doesn't protest.

* * *

><p>Vegas is bright and flashy and way too brazen for her tastes, but she's trying new things and letting other things go, so why not?<p>

They're not old enough to gamble and the Celine Dion show is sold out (he looked so relieved, not that she would ever actually make him go), that they quickly run out of things to do there.

One night and three trips to the free buffet later, they leave the bright lights behind.

* * *

><p>"It's huge," she says as they look out over the Grand Canyon.<p>

"I know. This sounds stupid, but I never believed it when I saw pictures of this place. It's just enormous," he agrees.

He wants to ride mules down the trails, but she starts in about animal cruelty and the poor living conditions of some of the mules used and he covers his ears and walks away.

She smiles when he comes back a moment later and it all feels normal. She didn't think that a normal could exist in the after, but they seem to have stumbled upon it.

They eat lunch at a nearby restaurant and he steals some of her fries without asking and that feels normal too.

She narrows her eyes and tilts her head and tries to figure him out, but can't seem to.

"What?" he asks, wiping at his mouth. "Do I have ketchup on my face?"

"No, never fear. Your face is still perfect," she mutters sarcastically and he half-smiles at her.

"As always," he says, and she thinks that maybe they will be okay.

* * *

><p>They are in Phoenix a week later and it's her birthday. She buys a new dress (red and slinky) and he takes her out to a fancy dinner and salsa dancing. She doesn't know how to salsa dance and neither does he, so they make it up as they go, tripping a bit and laughing a lot. They don't think about anything except the fact that she is seventeen and that anything is possible.<p>

He's so close to her when they dance and he steps on her toes more than once but it's the most fun she's had in a long time, so she goes with it. They talk about everything and he pulls out her chair and he actually spits water out all over the table when she tells him a joke Paul told her. It all seems, well, like a date.

But they are still broken and broken people don't date, right?

_Right_, she thinks to herself, but when the saxophone solo begins and she spins back into him, his hand naturally finds her waist and hers lands perfectly on his shoulder as her hair swirls around to tickle their pressed-close faces and as much as she might want it to not mean anything, it does.

It does.

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><p>Later, back at the hotel, they are standing in the elevator and the tension is palpable. He's at her right side and there's no one else in the lift and she is very aware that his hand is only two inches from hers and that her breathing is anything but even and steady.<p>

She looks at him from the corner of her eye and he is also breathing erratically and the synthesized music humming from the speakers is all wrong, but she thinks he's finally going to do _something_ when the doors ding open and two elderly couples walk in.

They step back to make room and are pushed back into the bar that lines the wall of the elevator. They are closer now. He stretches out his fingers and the backs of his fingertips brush hers for just a millisecond, but it's enough that she knows now. She knows what she is going to do and she may just be adding another item to her long list of questionable decisions, but she really doesn't care (although perhaps "not caring" is questionable decision number one).

Two more floors light up on the buttons and she has never wanted anything to move faster in her life. The couples get off on floor twelve and then the doors shut and once again, it's just the two of them. She tries to smooth out her breathing, envisioning silk blowing in the wind and cream pouring into a glass and all those eloquent and graceful things she always wanted to be, but it's not working. She's almost panting as if they have just finished a long run and she finally looks over at him, the buttons lighting up to indicate floor thirteen and fourteen and finally she just says it aloud. "Screw it."

And she turns to him and places one hand behind his head and one right above his heart and she kisses him harder than she's ever kissed anyone before. She backs him further into the wall of the lift and he is returning her kiss and they were never supposed to end up here, but it somehow seems like they never would have been able to escape it, even if they had wanted to.

He pulls her closer to him and they are kissing the way they do most things: intensely, passionately and competitively. She's definitely winning since he still is reeling from the fact that she kissed him. It's usually the other way around and it's usually her who puts a stop to it, but right now, she's not stopping anything and her hands are in his hair, then on his face, then pulling him closer at his waist.

He's giving it right back to her though and she realizes that in all the other times they have kissed, he was holding back. This is deeper, longer, more. It is something new, something different and as they stumble out of the elevator and towards their room, he fumbles with the key, dropping it on the floor. She bends down and picks it up and after she places it in the slot, she hears a soft click. She turns and looks at him triumphantly and he's looking at her with such intensity, such fire in his eyes that she's not sure what to do. But then he kisses her again and backs her into the room, the door swinging softly shut behind them. As she falls backwards onto the bed, his lips on her neck, she feels a soft click, much like the one she heard at the door: the click of two pieces, both jagged and irretrievably broken right down the middle, fitting together to form something new. Something whole.

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><p>End of part one.<p>

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><p><em>Thanks for reading and reviewing. Love to all.<em>


	2. Fall Back in Love Eventually

Promises, Swear Them to the Sky

by: singyourmelody

Author's Note and Disclaimer:I don't own any of The Nine Lives of Chloe King characters. Title is from The Naked and Famous's "Young Blood," one of my favorite songs ever. This is conclusion to my second post-finale story. Thank you so much to all of those who reviewed the first part. It's wonderful to know that someone is actually reading my stories! I appreciate you all.

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><p>Fall Back in Love Eventually<p>

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><p>"So this is the morning after?" he asks, when she opens her eyes and looks at him. She's vaguely aware that her hair is flat on one side and that her eye makeup is most likely smudged, but he's looking at her like he can't see any of that.<p>

"Guess so," she replies back, noticing that his hair is also a mess, thinking about how she was the one who made it that way.

"It's supposed to be awkward . . ." he continues.

"And embarrassing . . ." she adds.

"And I'm supposed to be wondering how long I have to stay here."

"And I'm supposed to be dreaming about our future children and chanting 'Mrs. Chloe Petrov' over and over again in my head."

He looks at her and laughs, before leaning down to kiss her again.

Finally he pulls back and tucks her hair (on the flat side) behind her ear. She stares at him for a moment, before curling up on her side, pulling his arm around her as her eyes slowly close.

"Hey Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to tell you something."

"Hmm?" she asks, not moving, fully enjoying the feeling of his knees tucked inside of the back of hers.

He pauses then and doesn't say anything and she finally turns to look at him, concerned.

"I . . ." he starts, and he looks so serious that she's momentarily afraid he's going to break them both apart with whatever he says next.

"I," he starts again, ". . . am so hungry. We should get some breakfast."

She sits up and punches his shoulder. "Jerk," she mutters.

"Ow," he complains, but his eyes are smiling. "God, you try to feed a woman and look what happens."

They order room service and watch morning cartoons and it all seems so easy, but she knows it's not that simple. It can't be, right?

* * *

><p>When they check out of the hotel the desk concierge asks, "How did you enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Flukenaunter?"<p>

"Flukenaunter?" she asks, stifling a laugh. They've used different names at each of the hotels they've stayed at, Smith, Thompson, Jones, Williams. But Flukenaunter? Has to be the worst he's come up with.

"I'm sorry, did I mispronounce it?" the concierge questions. She buries her face into his arm to suppress her grin.

"No, you said it perfectly," he says, looking quickly at her nametag, "Priscilla." He flashes the employee a winning smile and leans closer and Priscilla blushes, actually _blushes_, a bit.

She has to stop herself from outwardly groaning, but inwardly, she's glad to see some of his smug charm returning. He signs the statement and as they walk to the car, she notices that he slips their room key into his pocket. She's pretty sure he was supposed to return it and she bites her bottom lip and tries not to think of the way her skin felt every time he touched her the night before. The memory is seared into her brain, however, and she decides that maybe this is one thing she doesn't need to forget. One thing he doesn't want to forget.

"Mr. Flukenaunter?" she asks when they arrive at the car.

"Mmm. Of the Berlin Flukenaunters," he replies without missing a beat.

He pops open the trunk and begins to load their luggage in.

"So what does Mr. Flukenaunter do?" she asks.

"Investment banker. But he always secretly wanted to be a baseball player," he says, simply, as if Lloyd Flukenaunter was a real flesh-and-blood person, with hopes and dreams and ambitions.

"And Mrs. Flukenaunter?" she asks, stepping closer to him as he shuts the trunk.

"Artist. Creates the most beautiful pottery. When she's not raising little Jens and Anna of course."

"Of course," she says. She reaches up and touches the back of his head. He leans into her touch and it's the smallest thing, not even an entire movement, just a lean, but it's enough to make her breath catch in the back of her throat. They stay like that for a moment before he says, "Where to, Mrs. Flukenaunter?"

"Well that depends, Mr. Flukenaunter."

"On . . ."

They walk around to their respective sides and she can feel energy building up inside of her as she watches him over the top of the car. "On whether or not you brought your passport."

He nods and she can tell he's surprised (she keeps doing that to him and she loves it) and she hopes she remembers enough from Spanish class to get by. She probably doesn't, but they go anyway.

* * *

><p>The Temple in Magdalena, Mexico is an exquisite old church and she feels a calm settle over her as soon as they enter. She hasn't been to church in a long time, probably since she was a little girl, and she's somewhat uncertain if she's even allowed to be there.<p>

They enter and light three candles (his suggestion) and sit for a while in one of the pews. Some of the shadows have returned to his face and she knows he is thinking of _them_ and of the choices that the two of them have made. She reaches over and holds his hand as they sit in reverent silence, the sacred air and hallowed ground renewing that part within each of them that they had forgotten was there.

It's dark when they leave the temple, but instead of leading them back to the hotel, he pulls her over to a nearby hill and lies down on the grass. She doesn't know what to make of this, he's not really the grass-lying type and he's been quiet all day, but she lies down next to him and realizes why he stopped there.

Looking up she sees the sapphire sky, littered with tiny, twinkling stars. It seems expansive and all-encompassing and she suddenly feels very, very small.

Eventually his hand reaches over and takes hers and her back is damp and it's starting to get a little windy, but this feels like such an intimate moment that she doesn't want to move. She thinks of everything they did the night before (her skin on his skin, his lips on her neck, her fingertips tracing the ridges of his backbone) and she didn't think they could ever really go any deeper than that. But lying here, both their souls cut open and haphazardly stitched back together, she realizes that somewhere along the way the thread she used to stop the bleeding intertwined with his. And that with every stitch, every small, insignificant effort she made to pull herself together, she was pulling him closer.

And now here they are, lying on a damp hill in Mexico of all places and she's never been good at making decisions and this is kind of a big one, so_ how come she's not scared?_

* * *

><p>Later, she'll dream of Valentina and Jasmine and they seem happy.<p>

(She doesn't see Brian but even within her dream she notices that she doesn't see him, as if his absence somehow becomes a presence).

She awakes with a start and feels uneasy, so she turns over to look at him. Brushing his hair off of his face, his arm slung around her waist, she feels the tightness in her chest begin to subside a bit and she exhales. It was a strange day for both of them. It's August and they know this is all coming to an end very soon, but a part of her isn't ready to let go yet.

They needed this and they needed each other, but come September, come September . . .

She doesn't know how to finish that thought.

They were separate in the before and most definitely together in the after but if today showed her anything, it's that they are still damaged no matter how much they don't want to be, and how does any of it fit into the now?

* * *

><p>When they are back in Arizona, his phone starts vibrating. A lot. He ignores it at first, constantly clicking it off and hiding it in his pocket but she finally wrestles it away (kissing the small spot right below his ear is a good form of distraction, she discovers) and flips it open.<p>

It's a text from Dominic and it's not a happy one. He's demanding to know where they are and why Alek hasn't brought her back yet.

He shrugs when she shows it to him. "Valentina wouldn't have even let us go this long," he says, quietly, and she knows he's thinking of how much has changed since Dominic took over as leader of the San Francisco Mai group.

They sit on the edge of the bed for a while and don't say anything.

"It is almost the end of August. I don't think my mom would be too suspicious if I came back now. We should go," she says, finally and resolutely. Maybe.

He nods and she feels like they are on the edge of some big, life changing conversation or confession or something, and she's not entirely sure if she wants to walk down that road quite yet. The whole thing is still too new, too raw, too pure to taint it with messy words spilling out from that place deep inside her that he somehow managed to unlock and open.

He looks up at her and she can tell what he's thinking, so she leans forward and kisses him and his fingers brush lightly over her shoulders when they remove her cardigan, making her shiver. The last words she said still hang in the air, echoing in their ears: _We _and _go_ and perhaps the most scary of them all: _should_.

They fall backwards and his fingers interlock with hers, pressing her hand into the mattress. He stops kissing her for just a moment to whisper, "Not yet, okay" and it's a question more than a statement so she whispers back, "No, not yet."

* * *

><p>Eventually they do go back. They have to. There's too much waiting for them there: prophecies, school, Amy, Paul, her mom. As she's thinking of all the reasons why, she realizes that those are her reasons, not his, and that in reality, he only has one reason: her.<p>

And that kindasortamaybe freaks her out.

(She briefly considers what she would do if the roles were reversed, if she was the protector and he was the chosen one. She thinks the answer is yes, but she's not entirely sure of the question.)

The drive from Arizona is boring, so they pass the time by trying to outdo one another with random trivia.

"You cannot snore and dream at the same time."

"The human heart beats seventy-two times per minute."

"Abraham Lincoln was a licensed bartender."

"Penguins mate for life."

"Really?" she asks. "Do Mais do that too?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"I don't know. It would just explain some things."

She sees his grip tighten on the steering wheel. "Explain what exactly?"

"Me and you. This whole trip. I don't know." She really doesn't know what she is saying, but the closer they get back to San Francisco, the more she can feel the whispers sneaking up around her. She might have left them behind, but the memories of those they have lost haven't left her.

He nods and stares straight ahead. "Right. Because there's no way we could possibly be together unless some strange Mai rule is involved, is that right?"

"I didn't mean it like that," she says quietly.

"Then how did you mean it?"

It feels like everything is slowly spinning out of control and she's letting it and she doesn't even know why, so she remains silent. They ride for twenty, thirty, forty miles before she finally breaks the silence.

"Alek, I. . ."

"You what, Chloe?" he asks, not harshly, not callously, but as someone who is worn down, tired, and spent.

"I just don't know what to do with any of this."

And it's always come down to this, hasn't it? Her own fickle heart betraying her once again. Self-doubt creeps up over her and grabs hold, refusing to let go, no matter how much she tries to shake it off. She doesn't want to hurt him, but she thinks she already has. All of the wrong parts of the Chloe of the before have come storming back and she doesn't know how to fix this or even what needs to be fixed, only that something is wrong. That she made it wrong.

They ride in silence for the last few hours and eventually arrive on her street.

The trees and the sidewalks are all too familiar and she really can't believe they have been gone for months.

He pulls up in front of her house and helps her unload her luggage. He hands her the suitcase, but won't let go, until she looks up at him, questioningly.

"Every moment we were together, every second we spent driving and eat licorice and getting lost and laying in the grass and riding elevators, all of it, I chose to be there. I chose to be with you," he says.

His words wrap around her and for a moment she can't hear Jasmine's laugh or see Valentina's eyes or feel Brian's arms. It's as if his words are a buffer, protecting her. Just like he always does.

"But you. . ." he continues, "you didn't choose that. I made you come with me. And I shouldn't have. It was too much and I'm sorry." She's taken aback as he says this. The Alek of the after (and even the one of the before) does not apologize and does not feel remorse. So what is happening?

"Alek, you didn't force me to go with you . . ." she begins, but his look is skeptical and she trails off. They both know he can be very persuasive when he wants to be and that Tuesday afternoon in her room feels like decades ago. She remembers packing and then sitting in his car and it's all a bit fuzzy, but she knows she still made a choice.

"Chloe, don't. I get it, okay?" he says and she realizes that he's letting it go. Letting her go. And she really thinks she doesn't want that, but she's not sure how to make him stay.

"It'll be better," he states.

"Better?" she asks, as she feels an acid taste creeping up from deep inside.

"Starting now we do it better, right?" he reminds her, before stepping back, the promises they made on the mountain in Yellowstone ringing in her ears.

He gets in his car and drives away and he is whole and put together and composed, while she stands on the curb, a chaotic combination of then, now, and somewhere in between. She decides that this must be how it feels when the Chloe of the before and the Chloe of the after collide.

* * *

><p>She apologizes profusely to Amy and Paul and lies to her mom about her great camp experience and somehow she manages to pull the whole thing off. Amy and Paul forgive her (after quite a bit of begging) and she feels terrible, because she doesn't deserve their forgiveness or their friendship or her mom's faith in her or Alek's . . . Alek's what? Affection? Devotion? <em>Love?<em>

She shudders when she thinks of that word. They definitely aren't there yet.

She sits up straight in her bed when she realizes the thought that just passed through her mind. _Yet_. As in, could possibly someday happen. May possibly someday happen. Will possibly someday happen.

He always saw the _yet_ when she couldn't even dream of it. And that's how they've always been haven't they? Him leading, her following, him sometimes pulling her along. She's always been a strange mixture of resistant, rebellious and competitive, and now? Now it's her turn.

She finds him on her roof. Dominic has upped her security since they've returned, for fear of Zane and his group and he's been on duty less and less, sharing the responsibilities with countless others. But for tonight, he's there.

He doesn't say anything when he sees her, so she grabs his hand and drags him down to the ground, pulling him to the corner of Elm and Taylor. The streetlight may be the only constant thing in her life, always glowing in the darkness, a literal light on her path and she needs that.

They're back to where this whole thing started, only that's not really true. If she was honest, the whole thing started with a basketball strategically bounced over her head and his hand pressing into her hipbone in a whitewashed school hallway.

They stand there silently before he clears his throat and says, "I haven't seen you in a few days. How are you?" He's trying to be polite, and it actually makes her a little angry at him (she knows she doesn't have a right to be, but there it is).

"Really?" she asks, shaking her head and he doesn't respond right away.

"I'm trying to let you go," he says quietly, after a moment of strained silence.

She almost laughs out loud when he says it. In the before, he would never back down. Not against Brian or Valentina or Jasmine or even herself and he picks now to grow a conscience and become a gentleman?

"You can't let go of what won't let go of you," she says to him finally.

She thinks again of Brian and Valentina and Jasmine but notices that she doesn't feel them, doesn't hear them. It's the first time that's happened in the after and the silence is empty and deafening, but it's also relieving.

"And what? You're not letting go of me?"

"No, I'm not."

He still looks skeptical, so she continues.

"I'm finally getting used to how we live now. . ."

"And you need me to do that," he says and he sounds bitter. She does need him. This isn't news.

"Yes, I need you. I admit it. Okay?" she says, her words coming out sharper and more heated than she means them to.

"So what?" he says, his voice growing louder.

He looks away and she feels like she's disappointed him, again. He who has never hesitated or changed his mind or done any of the things she seems to do regularly.

"You have the power to break me, you know that? I gave that to you a long time ago and, and I don't even want it back." She's almost surprised at her own conclusion.

He refuses to look at her. Finally he meets her eyes and shakes his head. "Breaking. Power. Who's in control. This isn't supposed to be how relationships work."

"That's how we work," she states, but he doesn't say anything. "Fine. Then tell me how they work."

"You know, flowers and candy and hearts on the line," he says sarcastically.

She narrows her eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. Relationships suck sometimes. They really, really suck. But every so often, you wake up early and the sun is just coming up and there's this girl lying next to you and she is everything."

She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again.

He's also quiet for a moment before he finally says softly, "I don't want to be wrong for you."

And she gets it now. After everything, all of the months put together, they are still a little damaged and damaged people leave devastation in their wake and he doesn't want that for her. Doesn't want to do that to her.

She thinks he underestimates both of them.

"Don't you think I can be the judge of that?" she asks.

His eyes become steely and cold. "You aren't always the best judge of what is good for you."

"And neither are you," she counters and for just a moment, they are back in that field with Zane. She knows his anger. He recognizes her insecurity. And neither of them is walking away.

She's standing under the streetlight on the corner of Elm and Taylor on a too-warm August night and there are no confessions of love or future plans or any of the things she and Amy would swoon over in romantic comedies. She hasn't poured her heart out or even begun to scratch the surface of the truth (because the truth is that she doesn't only need him, she wants him) and she realizes she will need to do that and that kind of terrifies her. But the thing is, she's not standing there alone.

And maybe that makes all the difference.

So she begins.

* * *

><p>The first day of school comes too soon.<p>

She already knows AP History is going to kick her butt and that English will be her favorite class. And she already has homework in Chemistry, but she forgets all of that when she walks out of her classroom after the bell rings and sees him standing there. He smirks a bit when he sees her, a smug little action that makes her simultaneously want to hit him and maybe kiss him.

She smiles and together they walk down the hall.

Eventually, their hands link together and she's not sure if she reached for his or he reached for hers, but their fingers are tightly interwoven together and the whole thing really is just that simple, isn't it?

* * *

><p>Later he sneaks into her room and pulls back the covers and wraps himself around her.<p>

She will not admit it to him (his ego is big enough already), but she was waiting for him. So when his arms slide around her waist, she turns and kisses him. He kisses her right back and it's fast and they haven't kissed in almost a week and she thinks they have a lot to make up for. She unbuttons his shirt and his hands are seemingly everywhere all at once.

He doesn't say _I love you_ and neither does she and it's still perfect.

* * *

><p>After a while (a long while), the <em>before<em> and the _after_ all seem to melt away.

They are different in the _now_. Stronger, more mature. They have to be to face what seems to be coming at them from every angle.

The Order, rogue Mais, prophecies, prom.

Every so often, she makes them do something that reminds them how to be normal. Reminds them that it's okay to do ordinary, routine things. They need that.

So on prom night he shows up to her house early and he brings her a bouquet of flowers (corsages are tacky) and her mom takes pictures and they dance (their salsa skills still haven't improved much) and he kisses her goodnight on her front porch.

It's like something out of an 80s movie, except afterwards he climbs in her window, bow tie undone and they talk about the latest Mai attack until they both fall asleep curled up together on her bed, as they have done for as long as she can remember.

Eventually they get word that a mid-western Mai group has caught Zane. He inhales sharply when Dominic tells them this and she steps closer to him and lightly touches his lower back.

He tells her he can't see him yet and she understands. They do that now, understand each other. It helps with, well, everything.

They still fight. She reminds him not to be a jerk and he pushes her to be more careful with her lives. Not everything changes.

But they don't walk at night. They don't need to. They are beyond that now.

Instead, he is sitting on a park bench, her head in his lap and he is absentmindedly playing with her hair while he reads a book and she's almost asleep, when he softly says, "Thank you."

She forces her eyes open and looks at him. "For what?" she asks.

"For saving me," he replies. She can think of too many times when she's saved him: in fights with the Order, from Dominic's frustration, from disappointed teachers after he hasn't done his homework, but looking into his eyes, she knows what he means. He's thinking of that summer.

"I think it was the other way around," she says, quietly, before sitting up so they are at eye level.

He shrugs. "Does it even matter anymore?"

She leans forward and kisses him softly. He's right.

This is the now and they are together and everything before and after and somewhere in between has led them here.

And maybe what really matters is the cool breeze of the fall day and the pumpkin pie they tried (unsuccessfully) to make and the bruise forming under his left eye from their counterattack the night before and the fact that she now knows what it means to be a ghost and also to come back to life.

It's exhilarating and it's a second chance, and it's theirs.

* * *

><p>End.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Thank you all for reading and reviewing. Love. <em>


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